


Adrift

by rawkfemme



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angstier than I'd planned, F/M, Post-Endgame, but it ends up where I wanted it, non-intentional self-harm mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawkfemme/pseuds/rawkfemme
Summary: Written for Talsi74656's Prixin Prompt Competition.  My prompt:“I’m fine.”“You’re always fine! Just - for once give me a real answer!”----------------------------------------------------If Kathryn would stop lying to herself for one damn minute, she’d see why she was doing this.  If she would stop telling herself these half truths about self-improvement, she’d realize what was really going on.SUMMARY NOTE: The ending has been revised (hopefully for the better). If you've already read this, feel free to re-read. :)





	Adrift

**Author's Note:**

> Flashbacks are in italics.

If Kathryn would stop lying to herself for one damn minute, she’d see why she was doing this.  If she would stop telling herself these half truths about self-improvement, she’d realize what was really going on.  If she just let her mind and body rest, she’d understand that she missed him.  From the moment that they had docked, life became a whirlwind of activity.  After the thankfully short debriefings, there seemed to be a never ending barrage of press junkets, medical appointments, family reunions, and counseling sessions.  Everyone wanted a piece of Kathryn.  In a way, she welcomed the distraction.  If she had too much time to herself, she’d let those familiar doubts and regrets creep in. Attending all of the obligations that Star Fleet and the _Voyager_ family she loved so fiercely called her to let Kathryn remain in her blissful denial. 

 

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  _The counselor and physician that had been assigned to Kathryn upon_ Voyager’s _return had been kind and considerate, and were a welcome change from_ Voyager’s _acerbic EMH and his constant nagging.  After conferencing over her care and reviewing Kathryn’s history regarding depression and ignoring her own needs, they determined that in addition to the anti-anxiety hypos that she was to administer daily, Kathryn would do well to find a physical outlet for her frustrations.  Her former hobbies were eliminated one by one.  Painting was too docile. Velocity reminded her too much of Seven. Taking tennis back up had been an option, but the graceful rhythms of serving and volleying proved to be too peaceful.  Kathryn needed a challenge._

_“Kickboxing?” Kathryn snorted into the visual comm-link.  “I’ve had enough fighting over the last seven years to last the rest of my life.”_

_“It’s not fighting. It’s Rhythmic Cardio Kickboxing.  We punch at the air.” Kathryn’s sister Phoebe replied.  “I go twice a week at the gym a couple of blocks from my house. You should come with me.”_

_“I don’t know Phoebe. A gym?  I’m not sure that I’m really up to dealing with people en masse yet.  Maybe I should just reserve a holosuite for a couple hours a week.  ”_

_“Getting back into the world of people is supposed to be good for you.  The point of going to a gym when we have holo-everything available is to form relationships outside of the gym.  Make some friends. Detach yourself a bit from what you had to endure for the past seven years.   Besides, it’s fun to go and see some eye candy and flirt a little. Sometimes the juice girl gives me a free smoothie, and the Thursday afternoon instructor has the most amazing breasts._

_“You are a letch.” groaned Kathryn._

_“I am not.  I appreciate the female form, and select male forms, and if free Mango Tangos are put aside for me, that’s just a bonus.  Come with me, please?  I promise it’ll do you good to see that there is a life outside of StarFleet and a wardrobe that doesn’t consist solely of red, gray, and black.”_

_Kathryn looked down at what she was wearing.  The new gray shouldered uniforms still felt foreign to her, but she couldn’t recall the last time she wore something that wasn’t standard issue.  Even her pajamas and transitioned from the sensual silks she wore when she was with Mark, to a baggy grey undershirt and panties. After contemplating for a moment, Kathryn replied._

_“Fine. When’s the next class?”_

_“Tomorrow morning at seven. You can take the class with me and still make it to work on time.”_

_“Alright, alright. Send me the address, and I’ll meet you there.”_

_“You betcha.  And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ll be coming with me. I missed you.”_

_“It’s not every day that we get a second chance. I know that better than anyone.  Love you.”_

_“Love you too.” And with that the comm-link disconnected. Rising from her desk, Kathryn grabbed a PADD and headed to the bathroom to take a long soak and research the current trends in exercise attire.  A fresh start called for some fresh gear.  Maybe with her sister’s persuasion, Kathryn could just find her way back to herself._

 

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 The grey, drizzling San Francisco weather matched Kathryn’s foul mood.  Standing on the front stoop of her house, she pulled the collar of her jacket up around her ears. There were fewer photographers outside her door today. Whether it was the weather keeping them away, or that the public had finally had their fill of her didn’t matter. The sooner they left her alone, the better. After all the frenzy she didn’t care if she never saw another holo-imager again.

Once she’d crossed the puddled street to her neighborhood transport station, Kathryn gave the coordinates to the operator. Feeling the haze of transport envelop her, she soon stood in front of a low, plain, brick building.  Pushing open the heavy antique-style door, she stepped inside.

The holosuite Kathryn has reserved is quiet and empty. It’s positioned a comfortable distance away from Starfleet and her usual stomping grounds. The likelihood of anyone recognizing her in this remote and discreet location was slim.  Phoebe had been right about one thing; exertion seemed to be restorative, but what Kathryn needed was to sweat and not think. She needed to not be surrounded by curious faces. She needed to not be the DQ Darling. She just needed to ‘Be’.

Slipping a chip into the control panel, she activated the program. The grid-work on the walls and floor morphed into a dark and dusty room, strewn with folding chairs and discarded towels, with a row of lockers along the back wall. In the center of the room loomed a padded canvas platform surrounded by heavy ropes. On a stool in the corner of the platform were a pair of thick red boxing gloves. Kathryn lifted herself into the boxing ring and slid gracefully between the ropes. Picking up one of the gloves, she ran her fingers over its cool, smooth surface. Sliding her hand inside, she called for the program to begin and her simulated coach appeared to help her with her gloves. 

 

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_Kathryn stood on the bustling street in front of Phoebe’s kickboxing studio. She pulled tighter the oversized sweater that covered her brand new leggings and tank. She couldn’t silence the nagging thought that this may have been a bad idea as she watched her young, fit classmates enter the studio. Loud up-tempo music poured onto the street each time the door opened. The sweater wasn’t so much to protect her from the weather, as it was to shelter her from the gaze of those around her. She’d been shielded for so long by her black and red armor that being out in the world in bright stretchy fabrics was utterly alien. Soon she spotted Phoebe almost skipping her way down the sidewalk. Kathryn hoped enthusiasm was catching._

_“Yay!  It’s sister time!” Phoebe exclaimed, pulling Kathryn into a hug. “You’ll enjoy this. I promise.”_

_“I hope so Phoebe. Let’s go inside, shall we?” Kathryn cast a glance at the busy street behind her.  Passersby had noticed Starfleet’s ‘Golden Girl’ and their curiosity was causing them to linger._

_Hanging her sweater on one of the hooks in the hall, Kathryn began to feel every one of her years. She was the oldest in the class by at least a decade, and each of the nubile women who surrounded her were in far better shape. Kathryn could certainly see the draw this gym had for her sister, but she wasn’t sure that she belonged here. The last few years had left Kathryn without the motivation to work out as she once had, which was something she sorely regretted now._

_“Alright everyone, let’s get started. Face the mirrors and follow me.” The painfully perky instructor summoned, as the beat of a fast and unfamiliar song pounded and pulsed through the space. The instructor led the class through a series of repetitive punch and kick movements as a warm up, but then graduated to a more complex, almost dance-like, arrangement of steps, swings, and shimmies. Kathryn had to struggle to keep up and to keep her footing. She thought her position in the back of the room would shield her from being embarrassed by her lack of competence, but she was wrong._

_“OK, Short Stack. You, in the back with Phoebes. Yes, you. Get up here in front.  I’ll help you with your posture.”_

_Kathryn groaned to herself as twenty sweat-slicked faces turned towards her, the object of the instructor’s attention. Should she decline the invitation and remain the back? Should she run from the room? Should she call for an emergency beam out? This is not what she wanted, and not what she needed. A gentle nudge and pleading look from her sister helped remind Kathryn who she was. Starfleet captains don’t run. At least, not from annoyingly animated 20-something kickboxing instructors._

_Feigning a confidence that she didn’t feel, Kathryn strode through the throng of undulating students to the front of the room. At the instructor’s side, she rejoined the series of exhaustingly complex movements. Stepping down from her podium, the instructor adjusted Kathryn’s head and back alignment. While moving her hands to Kathryn’s hips, her fingertips swept across her shoulder blades, lightly evaluating Kathryn’s posture. While the contact was clinical, it was still kind and light, and it reminded Kathryn how long it had been since she’d known another’s touch._

_Kathryn finished the rest of the class front and center, feeling every one of the 40 or so eyes behind her. Judging her. Evaluating her. Soon, the tempo of the music calmed, signifying the customary cool-down period at the end of the class. The slower pace gave Kathryn a chance to notice her weary muscles and aching lungs. Yes, she had been far too long without exercise._

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After with their encounter with fluidic space, Kathryn had let Chakotay show her the basics of his favorite sport. She learned not to be “caught cold,” and how to “bob and weave.” She knew that as a right-handed fighter, she was “orthodox,” and sometimes it was alright to “play possum.”  But their bouts had normally ended in light-hearted banter and teasing. Punches were pulled instead of landing, and no one ended up injured, physically or emotionally.  When they left the holodeck, he’d re-join her after a few minutes, fresh out of the sonic shower, with a renewed hint of cologne. They always had dinner in her quarters.  He always ate what she offered, even if it hadn’t turned out how she’d have liked. The evening always ended on the couch, sharing stories of their childhoods and other long-ago memories. But Kathryn didn’t let any of that pollute her mind as she called for her first opponent.

In many ways, boxing is like dancing. Footwork and movement help a fighter to avoid being caught off balance, and coordinated crosses and corkscrew punches can resemble an elaborate tango.  But what Kathryn needed was not the sensual rhythm of dance. No, she needed to sweat and to punch and to not think. Her opponent stood across from her. She’s selected a female human hologram, so that they’ll be closely matched in size and strength. Kathryn rolls the safety protocols back some; just enough to feel the hits, but not enough to get hurt. 

She and the hologram spar for three rounds before Kathryn removes the softy protocols completely. Now she can really feel it. Now her blood is singing. Her opponent attempts a sweeping uppercut, which looks impressive but doesn’t fully connect, thanks to Kathryn’s graceful footwork. The hologram has left herself wide open and Kathryn is able to land a counter punch that sends the glass jawed opponent sprawling on the canvas. As Kathryn stands sweating and breathless over the vanquished hologram, an automated voice alerts her that her reserved time is almost over, however she knows that this voyage has just begun.

 

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_As class ends, Kathryn makes her way through the students and back to her sister, who hands her a towel to mop her sopping brow._

_“See, here I thought the way to get Anna’s attention was to be good at this. Apparently sucking gets you felt up. Not fair.”_

_“Oh please, that was not at all...”_

_“I saw the look in your eye when she grabbed your hips.” Phoebe leans in close to continue. “Not much action in the ready room I take it?  And you certainly haven’t gotten any since you’ve been home.”_

_“Phoebe, I...” Kathryn was going to continue and remind her sister that her new life at HQ left little time for romance, even if that is just a helpful excuse, but she doesn’t get a chance to finish. Their classmates have summoned up their courage and are now surrounding the sisters expectantly. It doesn’t take long before the floodgates open._

_“Are you really...”_

_“Kathryn Janeway.  Nice to meet...” She didn’t get in another word._

_“You look great, considering.”_

_“What aliens were the best looking?”_

_“Do you still talk to...?”_

_“Why didn’t you update your uniforms?”_

_“Weren’t you devastated that Mike...Matt...Mark?  Mark...”_

_“I don’t think I would have done so much exploring. I’d have set a straight-line course for home.”_

_“Does Chakotay have any other tattoos?”_

_“If he’d left me for some bimbo I’d have phasered off his...”_

_Kathryn had heard enough. Being reminded of those last days on_ Voyager _had knocked the wind from her. She smiled to the group and tossed them a weak excuse about having to address the fleet. She grabbed her sweater and hightailed it for the door, Phoebe following in her wake.  Hearing confirmation that the public thought that she and Chakotay had been item was too much. She’d let Command parade her around and keep her busy, holding the pain at bay, but she’d avoided reading any of what the press core had written._

_Pushing open the door to the studio, she had hoped to be greeted by a wave of cool air to calm her racing pulse and beating heart. Instead, she was met by a throng of holo-imagers and even more hurried inquires._

_“Admiral, what are your plans now that...?”_

_“How do you feel about the Borg tech...?”_

_“Can you comment about your treatment of Noah...?”_

_“Have you seen Commander Chakotay since...?”_

_She’s waived off the reporters trailing behind her while trying to make her way to the transport station, but the last question gives her pause._

_“Since what?” She turns and asks the crowd, unsure of which one of the hacks asked the question._

_“Since...since he came back to Earth?”_

_He’s back. Last she’d heard he had taken Seven to see the system’s sights. Luna, Mars, Jupiter Station, possibly as far as Vulcan to visit Tuvok. She’s not surprised that he didn’t check in with her upon returning. She’s not his commanding officer anymore, and at the end of their time together, they were barely even friends. Their lives had been thrust together involuntarily. It’s only natural that they’d drift apart once they had the option to._

_“Ma’am?”_

_Kathryn becomes aware of the fact that she’s been standing in a stupor of silent contemplation for god knows how long. It’s not exactly an image befitting an admiral. Grabbing Phoebe’s arm, she turns, disregarding the questions tossed at her.  As the door of the transport station swishes open, she turns and leaves the reporters with her now standard response.  
                “No comment.”_

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Kathryn bounces tensely on the springy canvas, mouth guard in place, gloves laced firmly at her wrists. Her weight shifts from foot to foot as she stares at the floor of the ring.  Her arms are bent at the elbows, primed and ready, as she slowly lifts her gaze. Her eyes travel up the form of the opponent across from her. The oversized and worn black boots. The pants crafted from the cheap leather of some lesser animal. The rough-hew tunic pieced together from sundry scraps of haggard material. The long and ratted black hair falling past the shoulders. The mottled green skin covering the neck and face. And finally, on the intimidating three-tusked visage typical of the hulking Nausicaan species.

Her first session in this solitary space had re-awakened a fire within Kathryn. So many weeks on her own, kowtowing to every order after years of punching her way through had left her a shell of her former self. She was used to being in control, to being the one in command; of her ship, of her crew, of herself. Being here, in the quiet of this dank and dusty gym, simulated as it may be, had allowed Kathryn the freedom to continue the fight that she had left in the Delta Quadrant. And fighting seemed to help. The graceful exertion. The feel of her muscles stretching and ripping.  The crushing impact of her glove against her opponent. The beautiful realization that she was still powerful. Her human opponent had been too quickly defeated. Kathryn relished a harder fight. With the safety protocols fully removed, Kathryn would be wholly able to appreciate her opponent’s strength, and she knew that she could give as good as she got.

The bell rang out, signaling the beginning of the round. Kathryn and the holographic Nausicaan circled each other, sizing one another up. Her opponent was patient. He waited for her to make the first move, likely wanting her to tire out so he could move in and take the advantage. Being so much smaller than him had its benefits, as she was far more nimble and able to maneuver around his bulk. She stayed by the ropes, then danced in to him to swing, landing jabs at his torso and avoiding his hits as he plodded around the ring after her.  She chuckled to herself as she was able to parry and change the path of his punch by slapping away his gloves, causing him to stumble off balance like the oaf he was.  But toying with the Nausicaan only served to enrage him. Hitting his fists together, he let out a mighty roar. In mere moments, Kathryn was overpowered and on the ropes. Hit after hit rained down on her. Her abdomen burned and her vision clouded with blood. Her ears rang and every fiber of her being screamed. After what seemed like unending torment, the holographic coaches were finally able to pull the Nausicaan away. Kathryn lay huddled and crippled, wracked with silent sobs. Her blood, dripping from where she couldn’t tell, and didn’t care, puddled on the canvas beneath her. The coaches pulled her upright and surveyed the damage. Nothing broken. Nothing dire. It felt like a lie. Life was dire and Kathryn was broken.

 

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An hour later, Kathryn lay recumbent in her tub, letting the hot water sooth her devastated frame.  She had managed to sneak home, thanks to the lateness of the hour, and the close proximity of the transport stations. Upon entering, she stripped off her clothes, sticky with sweat, tears, and blood, and clamored straight into her bath.  The dried remnants of her earlier activity turned the water a soft shade of rose as they left her skin. She didn’t realize that she had drifted off until the sound of her comm station woke her. In a fog of sleep, Kathryn rose from the water and pulled her robe around her, forgetting the battered state of her normally noble face.

“Oh my God.  What the fuck happened?”  This was the way Phoebe chose to greet her sister once Kathryn had opened the comm channel.

“I’m fine.”  Kathryn self-consciously raised her hand to shield her face from view.

“Like hell you are. You’ve got a black eye and a knot the size of a shuttle on your brow.”

“I ...I’m sorry Phoebe.” Kathryn dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her fingers against her scalp. It was tender.  The slight stinging sang under her skin.

“Why are you apologizing to me? 

“I don’t know.  Force of habit? I spent seven years apologizing to 150 people.”

“Just tell me who did this to you so I can kill them.”

Kathryn hesitated.  Who could she blame?  The holographic Nausicaan?  The holosuite manager who made it too easy to hack the controls and disable the safety protocols? Every foe that _Voyager_ had faced in the Delta Quadrant?  Seven? Chakotay? Herself?  Truly, there was no one else to blame. She had done this to herself. It might not have been as intentional as when B’Elanna acted out after learning about the decimation of the Maquis, but it was still Kathryn’s fault.

“No one mugged me or anything. This was more or less an accident. I was boxing to, well, to blow off some steam. On my own terms. No crowd. No one else.”

“Boxing?  Against who?  Kahless himself?  For Christ sake Kathryn...”

“I know, I know. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll stick to beginner levels from here on out.”  She looked her sister square in the eye, hoping that she could be convincing enough. Phoebe considered her sister for a moment.

“Just get your ass to the doctor, okay?  Look, the reason I called was to apologize for the other day. I didn’t realize that the girls would be so ballsy. Or the press.”

“Welcome to my life.”

“Kathryn, take care of yourself. Please?  I’m busy tomorrow, but I’ll be over in a couple days to check on you.”

Phoebe’s concern touched Kathryn in a way she hadn’t realized. She remembered how it was her sister who had pulled her out of the depressive state she had sunk to after their father and Justin had died. But that was a shared loss. This was something else. Something that even Kathryn couldn’t understand.  But she knew that she was alone in it. She nodded her head as tears pooled in her eyes.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Phoebe. I’m fine. I love you.”  Pressing her fingertips to her lips, Kathryn blew Phoebe a kiss and closed the comm line.

 

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When Kathryn wakens, she isn’t sure how long she’s been asleep. She remembers speaking to her sister, followed by running her contraband dermal regenerator over her injuries, and wrapping herself in her blanket brought back on _Voyager_ and laying down on her thickly padded bed. Sunlight is streaming through her eastern facing bedroom window, heralding the morning.  The banging around in her kitchen informs her that she has a visitor.

“Phoebe?” Kathryn calls. Her hands running though her hair and patting the location of her former injury.  All better, it seems. “I thought you were busy today.”  When no response follows, Kathryn has a flash of apprehension, but starts down the hall towards her kitchen.  As she turns the corner, she is greeted by a familiar face standing in front of her island range.

“Good Morning.” Chakotay greets her. A small smile tugs at his lips as he drops a pad of butter into a frying pan. Realizing that she’s wearing only the robe she hastily dressed in to take Phoebe’s call, Kathryn quickly pulls the lapels together while she tries to make sense of the situation unfolding before her. “There’s coffee in the pot, and the eggs will be ready shortly. Come whisk the sauce after you get a mug.”

Kathryn is standing glued to the same spot she’s been at since entering the room. As her swirling thoughts begin to solidify, one takes precedence; coffee. She crosses to the pot and pours herself a mug full.

“Breakfast would have been ready sooner, if you hadn’t been tinkering with your replicator.” Chakotay uses the spatula to gesture to the open control panel on her wall, with its chips and circuit boards asunder. In a daze, Kathryn crosses to the sauce pan next to Chakotay and follows his next command, to whisk the sauce. It’s yellow and creamy, sitting in a double boiler over gentle heat.

“This is...”

“Hollandaise. You didn’t have enough eggs for me to make them poached and still have yolks for the sauce, so we’re having ‘Scrambled Whites Benedict.’”

“Sorry.” For some reason, Kathryn feels ashamed of the shoddy state of her pantry. She concentrates on her whisking instead of meeting the gaze that she feels he’s leveled on her.

“Don’t be. You weren’t expecting company.” Chakotay slides the eggs out of the pan and onto two waiting plates. He then reaches across Kathryn to relieve her of her sauce, the bulk of his bicep grazing her breast. His proximity feels so familiar and comfortable, unlike the jarring stranger’s touch of the kickboxing instructor. Wordlessly, he places the plates on the table and sits, motioning for her to join him. Taking her coffee mug, she follows his command and sits.

The breakfast is nourishing, rejuvenating, and delicious. They eat in silence for a moment while he contemplates her and she contemplates her food. So many meals they have shared together over the years, but this one is rife with unanswered questions and lingering uncertainty.

“Why are you here, Chakotay?  I’d heard that you were back on Earth, but it’s a bit odd to find you so domestic in my house, uninvited.”

Chakotay leans back in his chair and takes a moment before responding.

“Phoebe called me.”

“Phoebe? That double-crossing...” Hearing of her sister’s involvement in this awkward reunion has Kathryn’s blood boiling.

“She was worried about you.” He raises his voice to cut her off. “Since she won’t be able to be here for a day or two, she asked me to check in on you.” Chakotay stares straight at Kathryn, his eyes intense with worry. “She told me about how you were injured.”

“Oh, that.” She waves her hand, dismissing his concern. “It was just a little sparring, to blow off steam.  Like we used to do a few years back.”

“A black eye and cranial contusion don’t appear from ‘a little sparring’. You turned the safeties off. Why, Kathryn?”

“No reason really. I’m fine, I promise. Thank you for your concern, but I’m sure you’re missed elsewhere.” She states, rising from the table.

“Kathryn...”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re always fine! Just - for once give me a real answer!” The force of his hand impacting the table shook the dishes and startled Kathryn back into her seat.  She sat there for a moment, feeling the warmth of the blush in her cheeks and the swelling of tears in her eyes. How dare he?  How dare he make these demands of her? He who had decided that their friendship wasn’t worth maintaining. He who had broken his promise to make her burdens lighter. He who had left his place at her side, on the eve of the first time she might have been permitted to allow herself to admit... Her fury dimmed to fear as his hand lightly clasped her arm. While she fumed, he had crossed to her and now knelt on the floor at her side. She pulled her gaze to his face, and was reminded of another night, a million miles away, and a tear-soaked conversation at a table. Raising her free hand to her face, she dabbed at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. It was no use, they rolled down her cheeks and onto her robe.

“A real answer, Chakotay?  The truth is I don’t know.” Now that she’d started, Kathryn could feel the words spilling forth. “We haven’t been home very long. I’ve been carted around and been made into whatever they want me to be. Press junkets, debriefings, ribbon cuttings, you name it. Starfleet is so damn happy to have something positive after the war that they’ve paraded me around ad nauseum.

“Seven damn long years. I did everything I was supposed to for seven years. I let myself be absorbed and now I don’t even know who the hell I am anymore. Who the hell is Kathryn Janeway?  She’s not Mrs. Mark Johnson. She’s not the star student at the San Francisco Park District pottery class. She doesn’t even know what she likes anymore, since everything changed while she was gone.”

“Adrift without an anchor.”

Chakotay’s comment gives Kathryn pause.

“Yes, if you want to use a nautical reference, sure, that seems to sum it up.” She rises from her chair and begins to pace the length of the room.  “And the one person, that’s you by the way, that I came to rely on above anyone else, suddenly vanishes from my life. You.  You took my anchor.  You WERE my anchor.” For some reason, she’s never fully realized how much she depended on him. And the realization takes her breath away.  For as much as she’s missed him, as much as she’s craved his counsel and his company, perhaps she’d become too dependent on him.  With a huff, Kathryn strides down the hall and into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. He’s just a pace or two behind her as evidenced by his knocking.

“Kathryn. We’re not through. Let me in. We have to talk about this.” Silence follows for a few moments, and when she emerges she’s dressed in her leggings and tank top, and makes a beeline for the front door.

“Time to go Chakotay. I’m sure Seven is wondering where you are.”

“Seven? She doesn’t give a damn where I am. We broke up weeks ago.” He’s caught up to her as she approaches the door, wrapping his hand lightly around her arm to stall her. “There’s nowhere I want to be or need to be, other than right here. You however, I suspect would rather be back in the ring.”

Her head drops. He knows her. She lets him pull her into his arms and feels warm and safe for the first time in a long time.

“I just want to hit something.”

“I know that feeling.  Trust me, I do.” He pulls her closer and she imagines that she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head. “You can punch all the pre-programmed bad guys that you want, but it won’t change a thing. Let me help you.”

Raising her hands to his back, she feels his warm and strong form protecting her.  But in that moment, she knows that she has to push him away, yet again.

“No.” Kathryn responds, extracting herself from his grip. Chakotay opens his mouth to object, but she continues. “I do need you, but I also need to not need you.  I need to figure out who I am. When I’m not the captain of a wayward crew for 24 hours a day. I need to know who I am here, on Earth. My house was sold while we were gone.  Did you know that?  Most of my possessions were donated or recycled. They thought we were dead, and looking at all of that was too painful for Mark, and for my mom and Phoebe. So, it’s all gone. All I have is some heirlooms that they couldn’t part with and what I brought with from my quarters. Hell, I don’t own a damn thing in this house. It came fully furnished. It’s a month to month lease until I figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life.” Sitting on the couch, she sighed and gestured for him to join her.

“I’m sorry you and Seven broke up. Really, I am.” She added as he tried to interject. “You don’t have to tell me why, not yet at least. But...but there is a part of me that feels a bit vindicated.

“Vindicated?”

“Maybe I won.”

“Kathryn.” He sighed while trying to find the words. “There was nothing to win. There was never a contest. All you had to say was...anything. Any type if indication that there had been a hope.  Seven flattered me and maybe I needed to be pursued a bit. It’s juvenile, and I’m sorry. We ended it right after we were in Earth’s orbit. Being home made us both realized it was foolish. And truthfully, I had been hoping for years that maybe, after we were home...”

“I’d relax some ‘parameters’? That was my hope too.” Her gaze meets his as his hand lifts to cup her cheek.  But Kathryn knows what’s coming, and pulls away.  “Chakotay, I can’t.” She rises from the couch, but soon feels him behind her, his arms on his shoulders, always protecting her.

“You need to find your anchor. One that isn’t me.” He states as he rotates her to face him.

“One that isn’t anything or anyone else. I have to figure out how to be my own anchor again.  I have to learn who I am again. But that’s not...” she sees the look of rejection in his eyes. “That’s not to say ‘never’.” Burying her face in his chest, she admits to him something that she’d been scared to even admit to herself. “I love you. I do. And I’m sorry I never let you know.  I just need to be ‘me’ for a while. Can you understand that?”

Pressing a kiss to her hair, Chakotay traces his fingers up and down her back. As he sighs deeply, Kathryn readies herself for ‘goodbye’.

“Of course.  I love you. I need you to find the love for yourself, so that we can love each other fully, side by side.”

“It may take a while before I’m ‘me’ again. I can’t ask you to wait around any longer.”

“All I wanted in the first place was hope. You’ve given me that.  Seeing you blossom will be reward enough.”

Kathryn holds him tightly and breathes him in deeply. In this moment, she feels more at home than she did in the last weeks since their return.  Raising her face to meet his, she feels the need to test these new waters. Rising on tiptoe, she lifts her lips to his. The kiss is warm and soft, tasting lightly of the sugar is his coffee. She feels his hands wind into her hair as he deepens the kiss and Kathryn lets a moan that has been seven years in the making escape into the narrow space between them. Her fingers rend the fabric of his shirt as her desire increases. She knows they have to pull away, but she desperately doesn’t want to. As if he can sense her hesitation, Chakotay takes a step back, making the decision for her.

“As much as I love you, this needs to happen on your terms, and not mine.” Chakotay whispers, clearly pained at the separation. Kathryn nods and sighs trying to calm her racing pulse. “I’m going to go now. Call me tomorrow and let me know how you are.”

“I will. I promise,” she says, regretting that what had happened moments before had taken them so long to achieve.  Regretting too many wasted years.  Chakotay lowers his head to give her a brief parting kiss, and walks out the door.

 

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Epilogue: Several Months Later

 Phoebe’s bi-weekly morning coffee dates with her sister had become an institution. They were an excuse for the sisters to re-connect and become even closer than they were before _Voyager_ was swept away.  This morning, like so many others preceding it, Phoebe skipped up Kathryn’s front steps carrying two cups of San Francisco’s finest brew.  When knocking on her sister’s door yielded no response, she punched in the access code and waltzed into the living room.

“I guess they stop inspecting quarters once you’re an admiral.” Phoebe comments to herself at the state of the disheveled room. Clothes were strewn on the floor and more than one piece of artwork askew on the wall.  “Kathryn?  I come bearing hot delicious java!” But Kathryn Janeway is nowhere to be found.

After poking her head into the kitchen, den, and bathroom, Phoebe hears a bumping noise and muffled laugh from the room at the end of the hall. Busting thru the door, Phoebe is greeted by her sister’s auburn locks poking out from under the bedsheet. The rest of Kathryn’s grinning head follows shortly.

“Morning.” A cheery Kathryn greets her sister.  “Is it eight already?”

“Morning.” Phoebe responds, with more than a hint of suspicion in her voice.  As she crosses to sit at the foot of the bed, she can sense her sister’s apprehension as her eye darts around the room and Kathryn pulls the sheet closer. “Here. Enjoy.” Phoebe says placing the coffee on the night stand.  “You’re trying that new Pilates class at the gym tonight if I remember correctly?  Or have you started back up with your brutal boxing torture program?”

“No, I haven’t.” Kathryn states defensively. She looks at the coffee, but decides against it, snuggling deeper under the sheet. A few feet to her left on the bed, an item of pink satin inches its way towards the edge.

“Good. It’s healthy for you to have a physical outlet...one with safeties you can’t turn off.”  Phoebe crawls across the bed attempting to see what could have possibly tried to sneak Kathryn’s robe while she was talking.

“Now Phoebe, that’s unfair.  I’ve tried several different classes, I’m just having trouble finding the right fit.”  Inch by inch, the robe creeps.

“You remember what they said.  Working out is good for you.”

“Yes, I know.  It’s just that right now...I...” Kathryn blushes and covers her eyes as Phoebe snatches the robe, thwarting its journey.

“It’s just that I’ll be taking over her physical training regimen.” Chakotay stands up from his hiding place on the floor between the far side of the bed and the wall, holding a decorative pillow in a strategic location. “At the gym...not just...one on one.”

Phoebe responds with a ‘whoop’ of celebration and leaps up on the bed; her bouncing causing Kathryn to hold the sheet tighter over her naked body.

“I knew it!  Why the hell do you think I called him in the first place?

“Phoebe!” Kathryn admonishes her spring-loaded sister. “Kindly refrain from breaking my bed.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave that to him.” Phoebe replied, pointing at the nearly nude man at the other side of the room.

“OUT!”

“Alright. Alright.” Phoebe clamors off of the bed and ambles towards the door. “Have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.  Aw hell, go for it.”

As she exited her sister’s bedroom, Phoebe could swear that she could hear a squeal of delight from her respectable sister, Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway, who, after being back on Earth for several months, was finally finding her ‘home’.


End file.
